


Too Many To Count

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Hot and Heavy Kisses, M/M, Messy Kisses, Morning Kisses, just lots of kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of (connected) Tuckington kisses throughout their time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many To Count

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write a really messy horrible first kiss and well... well it then just continued.

The first one was frenzied and sudden.

It started with a few disgruntled facial features and a possible twitch of the lips.

It started with a few hand gestures and a couple of flicks of the wrist.

The first kiss was all about hands gripping and pulling, holding and pressing against anything and everything they touched on the other. It was sloppy; noses past the stages of bumping and more smooshed together while each man made embarrassing noises deep in the backs of their throats as their mouths opened. Even as they shifted and settled more into the kiss the spit being swapped gathered and smeared along their mouth and chins.

They would never admit it but that was both the worst and best kiss of their entire lives.

...

The second one was soft and lingering.

A thumb brushing over his cheek bone and down until he was guided closer with a touch under his chin. The morning light peeking through and warming their cheeks. Their lips touched and pressed together, sliding against the other. Their breath pushed out through their nose, puffing out over their cheeks.

“Every day is leg day,” the elder man whispered when they finally separated. He moved away from the man still in bed sparing a glance down at other man’s covered crotch. “Get dressed, and stop sleeping naked.”

“You’re more than welcome to join me, Wash,” the black man grinned and winked. He laughed as the blond snorted and pivoted around on his heel. Washington’s ears were turning a little pink at the tips and his boots made more noise than normal when he stormed out of the room and to do whatever it was that he did.

...

There were kisses scattered amongst their time stranded, before Felix made himself known. There were morning kisses, and night kisses, and kisses that were too violent sometimes that were more teeth knocking and tongues sliding than anything else.

And then there was nothing.

Wash and Tucker separated. Tucker couldn’t shake the roll in his gut that would toss up acid and burn up his throat. He kept thinking of the worst possible scenarios and it only made everything worse. It drove him to do stupider things than normal... it lead in deaths.

Tucker couldn’t stand that.

...

The first time they see each other again its tense and confusing. They’ve been played and Locus and Felix have shown their hands. There’s no time for pause, reminiscing or even “glad to see you weren’t being tortured!” before shit was going down and _fucking Church_.

He didn’t know what he was expecting when he went to tackle the A.I, but he could surely state that flopping to the ground like an idiot was not one of those things. He was just _mad_. He was mad for leaving him with Caboose, for leaving _him_.

Hell, he was even lingering with anger because of the mess that went on in Wash’s mind—the stuff that Wash thought Tucker didn’t pick up on. But everyone could see it, could see something off about him and it was only worse when Church was mentioned.

Even after that Tucker never really had a moment to take it all in again—to take Wash in. He was here, he was right here and his heart liked to pound with a little more exaggeration when he’d stand next to him. But other than that... nothing.

Well, maybe a brush of hands but Wash’s helmet never left his head and Tucker wasn’t about to pop it off. He’d get a little too handsy—grab at _stuff_ that he shouldn’t with so many eyes on them.

No, he’d save that for later. After they make sure Chorus’ population doesn’t wipe each other out.

...

There were no kisses between their reunion and Tucker’s plan—that went _fantastic_ thanks _!_

There would be kisses later, after Tucker healed and Wash wasn’t busy making sure that the man wasn’t going to fall apart. Tucker had smiled at that, at the feeling of Wash worryingly pawing at his face and pushing his dreads away from his face. This man was worrying over something as small as a stab wound when Tucker had seen Washington shrug off worse things than that like nothing.

“You’re going to get more gray hair, old man,” Tucker grinned tiredly up at the man and he hissed something back at him—something about him being stupid and that plan of his being stupid and that... Tucker slipped back into a sleep after that.

Yeah, Wash might have survived worst than a stab wound but this was Tucker and Tucker wasn’t used to the feeling of something piercing his gut and twisting as the man removed the blade.

So Tucker slept, he slept knowing that there’d be more kisses to come when he’d wake and Wash would most likely spend that time brushing his uncovered hand through his hair and over his cheek.

Yeah, there’d be more kisses to come and maybe something more than kisses. And maybe some dumb talk about feelings and Tucker would be fine with that. He’d be fine with the talk of feelings and where does _this thing_ leave them. He’s perfectly okay with whatever sappy, cliché conversation of feelings and hand holding and sneaking cheek kisses—or full on swipe of tongue against tongue.

Tucker was perfectly content with that...

...because more than anything else, Wash would most likely be okay with that too. 


End file.
